About a week ago, Winona had had a vision. This wasn't exactly out of the ordinary, but it seemed to be happening with more and more frequency every passing day.
She'd drawn Harry sitting at the Ice Cream Parlour in Diagon Alley, completely alone. The sense she got from it was a kind of bittersweet sadness. Harry was happy, but he was also lonely. She may not have been Harry's best friend, but they were close, especially after the Summer they'd just had.
They spent at least one day a week together. Winona would catch the train to his part of Surrey, pick him up from his aunt and uncle's house and they'd go explore the city.
She'd spent time with him over his last two years at school, but this time it was just the two of them together for a whole day a week. And she found she was loving it.
He was thoughtful and kind and so lonely. She was lonely too, maybe that was why they'd fit into one another's lives so seamlessly. They were company for each other, someone to talk to and laugh with, and she found herself looking forward to the time they spent together – it was far better than time spent at home with her wicked foster parents, that was for sure.
So, when she'd had the vision about Harry alone in Diagon Alley, she'd written Dumbledore immediately to ask what Harry was doing there by himself. The Hogwarts Headmaster had written back promptly, telling her that he had left his aunt and uncle's house due to 'extenuating circumstances' which he hadn't gone into detail about. She knew the Weasleys were in Egypt, and Hermione in France, and she hated the thought of Harry all alone for the remaining few weeks of the holidays.
Maybe it was soft of her, or maybe just coming from a place of innate selfishness, but she wanted in on the action. If Harry got to go hang out at the Leaky Cauldron until term started, then she wasn't about to miss out. So, she informed her foster parents she was leaving for school early (they hadn't cared) and packed her bags, heading directly for the main road where she could hail the Knight Bus.
Unfortunately, the conductor was still that greasy creep, Stan Shunpike. Her leered at her as she climbed aboard the bus, eyes scanning her figure which had most certainly developed over the break.
"Well, well, well," he said as he printed her a ticket, handing it off with a sly, ugly smirk. "Always comin' back, aren't we?" he purred grossly.
But Winona wasn't in the mood. "Eat dirt, creep," she responded in a near hiss, and he was so bewildered by the attitude that he left her alone the entire rest of the journey.
Sitting on the bus, fingers wrapped tightly around her trunk to keep it steady, she thought about how despite not seeing the twins at all, it had actually been a pretty good summer.
It wasn't only Harry she'd spent time with. She'd also seen Angelina twice, once they'd even gone to see a muggle movie; the Quidditch player had gaped at the screen the entire time, hardly able to follow the plot through the magnificence of it all. She'd met up with Lee three times, twice at his place and then they'd spent a day at the local zoo. They'd invited Alicia along, and the girl had been all too happy to drop helping her parents at their store to spend the day with her fellow Gryffindors.
Her foster parents were no worse than usual, and now that she was older she had a certain degree of freedom she hadn't held before. It wasn't so bad, she thought suddenly, growing older.
Once she got there, she realised the Leaky Cauldron was filled with all kinds of interesting people, and Winona wished the twins were there so she had to someone to excitedly point out the hag sitting in the corner, biting at bright red, raw chillies with pointed, fang-like teeth to.
She dragged her trunk along after her, stepping up to the bar where a man with a hunch stood, polishing a butterbeer glass with the heavy brow of an ancient caveman. "Hi, I'm Winona Andrews," she said politely, and he looked up from his busywork. She recalled his name being Tom, and she hoped that was correct. "I have a booking?"
The wizard produced a thick book which he cracked open and scanned, picking up a quill and jotting something down before nodding to her. "Right this way, Miss Andrews," he said, dipping into a deep, unnecessary bow.
She followed him up a set of rickety stairs and down a long corridor, doors leading off every few metres.
"Here you are," Tom said with yet another bow when they came to a stop in front of door number '6', handing her a small key. She took it, letting herself into the room. It was small and modest, with a bed and a door leading off to a tiny bathroom. Winona found it cosy, however, and thanked Tom politely as he left.
She didn't bother unpacking, deciding she could just live out of her trunk until school began. She was excited to see Harry and explore Diagon Alley without any supervision. She pulled on an old denim jacket then turned and headed down the hall, having woken up that morning with the knowledge that Harry resided in room number 11.
Her abilities as a Seer only continued to grow, and she knew she needed to talk about it with Dumbledore – and by extension, Trelawney – the moment she arrived back at Hogwarts.
Knocking on the door to number 11, she listened to the sound of footsteps from inside, then the slab of wood was pulled open, revealing young Harry Potter. The kid gaped at her for a long moment in a brilliant impression of a koi fish, vibrant green eyes sparking with bewilderment.
"Wotcher, Harry," she said, shooting him one of her bright smiles before stepping inside without invitation, knowing he wouldn't mind.
"Winnie?" he finally managed to ask, closing the door after her and turning to stare in shock. "What're you doing here?"
"Inviting you downstairs for a butterbeer," she told him, giving his room a cursory glance before spinning back around to grin at him.
"I don't understand," he said, blinking rapidly as he tried to piece it all together. "Who told you I was here?"
"The Powers That Be, I suppose," she replied. He only looked more confused. She chuckled, reaching up and tapping at her forehead in an obvious move. Realisation trickled over him and he nodded in understanding, although still completely thrown by her sudden appearance. "Come on, Boy-Wonder," she said, hooking an arm around his neck and dragging him gently towards the door. He was as tall as her now, which was mortifying, but she supposed she should just be grateful he wasn't any taller. The twins already had a good few inches on her, she didn't need Harry and Hermione surpassing her height, too.
Harry was quiet as they moved downstairs, and Winona got them a table near the back of the room, motioning to Tom for two bottles of butterbeer.
"I still don't understand," Harry said once they were alone. "You had a vision I was here? Is something bad going to happen?" He seemed anxious at the thought.
"Something bad was already happening," she corrected him, slouching in her seat and tapping her stained nails on the grainy wooden tabletop. Harry was only more confused. "You were lonely," she told him with an easy smile, and suddenly he seemed to understand, blinking at her with wide, bewildered eyes that had just a touch to shine to them, which she was more than happy to pretend she didn't notice.
Living with those horrible Muggles, growing up with them, she could imagine what it felt like to finally have people who really, truly cared about him. She felt the same, coming to Hogwarts and finding people she could finally call family.
"So, Dumbledore told me you had to leave the Muggles and come here," she began once Tom had dropped two frothing butterbeers on the table in front of them. "Wanna explain it to me?"
"You don't already know?" Harry sounded bemused.
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I'm not all-knowing," she told him with a laugh, "I saw you here, knew you needed some decent company, but that's about it. Everything else is a mystery."
"So you just showed up?" he asked, still struggling to understand.
"Well, the others will be along any day now," she told him casually.
"The others?"
"You'll see," she said mysteriously, gulping down a mouthful of butterbeer, then wiping her mouth on her hand. "So, why'd you run away?"
Harry paused, glancing down at his hands for a moment. "I sort of...blew up my aunt," he revealed with an off kind of smirk/wince combo.
"...Please elaborate."
"She was saying awful things about my parents, and I lost control…" he confessed with a grimace.
Winona said nothing for a moment, a frown pulling at her elfin features. "Was there a lot of blood?" she finally asked, morbidly curious.
Harry was shocked and disgusted by the question. "What?!" he hissed. "No! I didn't kill her!"
"Oh, thank Merlin," Winona breathed a sigh of relief. "What do you mean, then?"
Harry laughed, a loud chuckle that made a wizard a few tables over send him a wary look, like maybe they were plotting to blow him up too. "I mean she...inflated," he said, a tiny bit shy.
"Like a balloon?" Harry nodded his head sheepishly. "Brilliant!" she told him giddily, cackling loudly at the mental image. "Wait until George and Fred hear about this – they'll probably declare you their new god. Expect a lot of bowing."
"I didn't mean to do it," he replied, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips that gave way to his amusement.
"So you weren't expelled, then?"
"No," his brow furrowed at the question. "It was strange, Fudge himself was here to greet me."
"Fudge?" she repeated dumbly. "Are we talking about the same Fudge? As in the Minister for Magic, Fudge?"
"That's the one."
"Blimey," Winona murmured, picking up her butterbeer and taking another healthy sip. "You're a real, proper famous person, aren't you?" she said teasingly. Harry flushed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "No, really, you get personal visits from the Minister and everything!"
"Shut up," he groaned, but he was smiling, so Winona counted it as a win.
"I bet Malfoy would froth at the mouth with jealousy if he heard this," she added, and Harry couldn't help but smirk at the thought. "So, go on," she prompted him eagerly. "What happened? No punishment?"
"He said that he doesn't throw people in Azkaban for blowing up their aunts," he recounted.
"Just as well," Winona hummed.
"What is Azkaban, anyway? I mean, I know it's a Wizarding prison, but everyone who mentions it shivers like just the name alone freaks them out," he said, but she could do no more than shrug.
"I don't know much, I was raised as a Muggle, like you," she told him. "But, truth be told, I get a bad feeling even just thinking about it…"
"Must be a really bad place."
Winona nodded in agreement. "You know how terrible Muggle prisons can be," she said quietly. "I can't imagine what kind of terrors the Wizarding world threw in."
They sat in silence for a minute, each trying not to think too hard about the horrors Azkaban surely contained. "Hear about Sirius Black?" Harry asked her eventually, the level of butterbeer in their bottles growing lower.
"No," she said. "Who's Sirius Black?"
Harry scanned the tables nearby, then leaned over his chair to grab an abandoned copy of the Daily Prophet where it lay on the tabletop behind him. "I didn't know anything about him either until the other day, but apparently it's all over the news," he said, flattening out the paper and skimming it himself before handing it over to her.
Curious, Winona took it, dragging her eyes over the moving image on the front. Her body reacted strangely. At the sight of the photograph on the paper before her she inhaled sharply, staring down at the crazed man on the page in a sort of ringing surprise.
It was a mugshot of a deranged man held by chains, screaming and laughing hysterically at the camera. Winona's mouth felt dry, and she stared down at the image, lost in thought.
The man looked familiar, somehow. But she wasn't sure where she could have possibly seen him before. When he opened his mouth to laugh again, she would almost swear she could hear it, like she knew the sound of that laughter. Like she'd heard it before, maybe in her dreams.
"Winnie?" Harry asked after a long minute of nothing but silence as she stared at the image, skin prickling with awareness.
"Why's he in the paper?" she asked hurriedly, placing the copy of the Prophet down onto the table and finally dragging her eyes back up to Harry. She could still hear the madman's laughter in the back of her head, like the echo of a distant memory.
"Apparently he's the first wizard to ever break out of Azkaban," he told her with a frown. "Fudge seemed awfully concerned about him."
Curious, she glanced back down at the paper but avoided the photo of the man. Her eyes scanned the article attached as quickly as she could. "He's a murderer..." she murmured to herself. The words were like a punch to her stomach, winding her, and she realised she'd been hoping it wasn't something so awful. "Twelve people?" she whispered, dread swooping in her gut.
"With a single curse," Harry confirmed with a grim nod of his head.
Winona took an unsteady breath in. "I didn't even know that was possible," she said quietly. Harry stared morosely into his butterbeer while she kept reading the page. "That's scary," she finally managed to say, helpless but to return her eyes to the image.
He was hysterical. He looked unhinged and terrifying, certainly the kind of madman who could kill twelve people. So why was there a voice deep in her brain whispering, "no…"?
She cleared her throat, looking back up at Harry. "Doesn't feel too great, does it?" she mused, glad her racing heart didn't seem to affect her voice. "Having a murderous lunatic on the loose?"
"No," Harry agreed, finishing off his butterbeer.
"At least we're going back to school," she said quickly. "We should be safe there."
"Of course we should," Harry frowned again, and she realised she'd made it sound indefinite. Like there was every possibility they might not be. "Why wouldn't we be?" he asked, concerned.
Winona stopped, the words giving her pause. Something was niggling at the back of her mind, like there was something very important that she'd forgotten. No idea what it was meant to be, she folded the paper up, effectively cutting off her connection to the lunatic on the page before her. She didn't want to look at him anymore. Staring into his eyes only made her heart race faster.
"Well, I didn't come here to make things gloomy! Tell me, who d'you reckon the new DADA Professor will be?" she asked conversationally, keeping things light. Harry's tense posture slowly relaxed. "No matter who it is, I reckon we can't do any worse than Lockhart…"
The conversation perked up, and although he didn't mention it again, she could tell that Harry was touched she'd shown up just so he wouldn't be lonely. She wasn't the kind to get sappy, and he wasn't either, but there was a silent agreement between them that they each cared, and that they'd do anything to help the other.
It was the kind of wordless affection she shared with the twins, but it was almost stronger. Like they were bound by more than just friendship and love.
The days passed quickly. Winona and Harry spent most of it out exploring Diagon Alley. In a mischievous voice she'd suggested ducking into Knockturn Alley for a peek, but Harry just told her it sounded like something the twins would suggest and she realised what a bad idea it was, laughing as she directed him back towards the ice cream parlour.
They helped one another with their summer homework, for which each were grateful. They chatted as they worked, breaking for ice cream every other hour, people-watching and wondering aloud whether their friends were having nice holidays.
Toward the end of the week, Harry began to have to buy things for his upcoming school year. Winona pulled out her own robes and decided they were a little on the tight side; she'd grown somewhat over the summer – or rather, filled out somewhat – and she had some spare money set aside. New robes weren't too expensive, so she splurged and bought them, thinking about how it would be nice to not have the twins teasing her for her new figure if she was in too-tight robes.
She didn't need any new textbooks except an odd sort called The Monster Book of Monsters, for Care of Magical Creatures, and Harry grimaced when she told him.
"It's awful," he revealed as they strolled into Flourish and Blotts. "It tried to bite off my toes."
The manager looked as though she'd asked him to go walk into a werewolf den when she told him she would be in need of this book, and she watched with raised brows as he pulled on thick gloves and ventured into the cage, fishing out one of the snapping books and handing it off to her with a resentful grimace.
"Well…is there anything else I can help you with?" he asked with the sigh of a tired, tired man.
"Yes," said Harry, looking down his own booklist with a frown, "I need Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky."
"Ah, starting Divination, are you?" the man murmured, leading them off down the back of the packed bookstore, where a small section labelled Fortune Telling was placed. Winona hummed interestedly, running her fingertips along the spines of the books, curiously reading them and making a mental note to come back when she had some more free time.
"Here you are," said the manager, who had climbed a set of steps to take down a thick, black-bound book. "Unfogging the Future. Very good guide to all your basic fortune-telling methods — palmistry, crystal balls, bird entrails —"
"All relatively useless, mind you," Winona murmured just loud enough for the man to hear. He sent her a questioning look that she paid no attention to. Harry's focus was elsewhere, and she turned to him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.
"Oh, I wouldn't read that if I were you," the manager spoke up, catching sight of the book he was eyeing. "You'll start seeing death omens everywhere. It's enough to frighten anyone to death."
Death Omens: What to Do When You Know the Worst Is Coming.
Well, didn't that sound cheerful?
Curious, Winona eyed the boy, but before she could voice her questions, the manager was speaking again. "Anything else?" he asked, glancing around at the store as though already trying to decide what to do next.
"Yes," said Harry, though it didn't take a Seer to tell he was distracted. "Er — I need Intermediate Transfiguration and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Three."
"Add Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five to that, would you?" Winona added, and the wizard nodded, turning and disappearing in the shelves of thick, dusty tomes, returning with the three required books in his hands.
"Thanks," Harry said sincerely, and the manager nodded back before shooting them an unconvincing smile and hurrying off to help the next person.
Harry claimed to be tired, and so Winona led him back through the crowd to the Leaky Cauldron, agreeing to meet up for dinner in an hour or two. Winona was just putting her purchases into her trunk when there was a light tapping at her window.
"Errol," she exclaimed, rushing over and opening the glass, letting the bird tip into the room with about as much grace as a goblin attempting ballet. The poor thing was puffing as he flipped himself upright. Winona quickly fetched him some water to guzzle down, then sat on the window seat and eagerly opened the letter he'd brought with him.
Dearest Win,
Just got got back from Egypt. Can't wait to finish telling you all about it! Dad told us all about how Harry blew up his aunt – we're dying for more details! We're going to be in Diagon Alley on the 31st, will we see you there?
Miss ya, you rascal,
Fred & George
Winona grinned, immediately digging out a spare piece of parchment and eagerly writing her response.
Dearest troublemakers,
I'm actually staying at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry (different rooms, you heathens…and it's a long story). Safe to say I'll see you here!
Can't wait to see you both, I've got some sketches to show you that I'd like your thoughts on! Keep out of danger until then, I can't believe it's been a whole three months since we've seen each other. I think I'm having Weasley-withdrawals.
Much love,
Winona
She added a little caricature of herself crying a puddle of tears, then folded up the note and tied it to Errol's leg. "You gonna be okay to fly all the way there?" she asked him carefully, the little thing looking like he was about to keel over on her windowsill. But Errol did nothing but stare back, so she sighed, opened the window and watched as the bird seemed to mirror her sigh before taking off into the sky.
Two days later she spied Angelina outside Flourish and Blotts, and she jumped out from behind a cart full of pumpkins, making the taller girl jump with fright.
"Oh, you menace," Angelina tutted, slapping her friend on the arm.
"Good to see you too, Ange."
"How are you?" she asked, and Winona shrugged.
"Can't complain," she said, although a smile played at her mouth. "Wanna grab some ice cream? I'm kind of in with the owner of the shop."
Angelina eagerly agreed, and together they turned towards the ice cream parlour, chatting happily as they walked. "So, guess what?" Angelina asked her abruptly, a look of excitement on her pretty face.
Winona tried not to sigh, she hated this game. "What?"
"Fred owled me!" Angelina told her in a bit of a squeal. Clearly this meant something more than it seemed, but Winona couldn't say what.
Unsure how she was supposed to respond, she elected to nod her head slowly. "Brilliant," she finally answered, hoping it was the right thing to say.
"He said he missed me, and that he can't wait to catch up once we get back to school!" Angelina looked about ready to start squealing again. Winona was glad when she didn't.
She didn't really understand – it was just Fred, after all – but then again, she supposed she didn't see him the same way Angelina so obviously did. He was her best mate, so getting all breathless and excited at the mention of his name wasn't something she could relate to. "That's great!" Winona said with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Clearly it was what Angelina needed to hear.
"He said he was coming to Diagon Alley on the thirty-first," she continued happily. "You'll tell me if he says anything about me, right?"
"Uh – right," Winona nodded once, trying not to wince at the thought of fluttering between her two friends like she was some kind of specialist flirtation owl.
The two Gryffindors enjoyed some ice cream together before Angelina had to leave, having plans for the rest of the afternoon. They hugged as she left, and Winona sighed when she was left alone, going back into the Leaky Cauldron to look for Harry and see if he was up for a game of Gobstones.
It wasn't until the last day of the holidays that she saw anyone else.
She was sitting down at a couch by the fire in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron's bar, a half-empty bottle of butterbeer beside her and masses of coloured pencils spread out over the table for easy access.
"And what do we have here, Freddie?"
"Look a lot like a beautiful, unattached lass to me, Georgie."
Winona abandoned her work, spinning around to set her stormy eyes on her two best friends in the world. The twins were standing before her, even more freckled than usual, and slightly taller than they had been before the holidays.
"Finally," she grinned at them widely, showing off the small gap between her two front teeth. "Been waiting on you tossers for weeks now!"
"Never fear, dear maiden," Fred beamed, collapsing onto the couch beside her. "For we have arrived."
George took a seat on the ground in front of them, and Winona grinned again, feeling better already. "Go on, then," she encouraged them eagerly, tucking her legs up underneath herself and sticking her hands under her knees. "Tell me everything!"
"We sealed Percy in a Pyramid!"
"Well, almost," George added, though their shared excitement never dimmed. "Mum caught us, but it was completely worth it!"
"Harry told me he's been made Head Boy," she said with a grimace. "Just what we need."
"If he puffs out his chest any more, we'll have to start calling him Head Baboon," Fred grinned, and Winona gave a peal of laughter. "What about you?" he asked once her amused giggles had tapered off. "What're you doing staying in the Leaky Cauldron? You said you'd explain in your letter."
"Well, I had a vision that Harry was here all alone," she told them, suddenly hesitant. Now that she said it out loud, she felt kind of stupid. She dropped everything to come and keep the boy company. She supposed it was part of the strange kinship she shared with him, so tied to him that she was plagued with visions of his great, yet terrifying, future.
Thankfully, the twins didn't seem to find this strange. She didn't need to fill in the blanks, they could do that well enough on their own. They knew her well enough for that to explain everything.
"What've you been up to?" Fred asked, mirroring her and tucking his legs up under himself. "Spent much time in the Alley?"
"Bought enough Sugar Quills to last me until next month," she joked with the realisation that she had no news to share with them. She'd just been sitting around Diagon Alley with Harry, eating junk food and doing...homework...for lack of anything better to do. "I'm not interesting," she said quickly, acknowledging how ultimately un-fantastic her life was – which was saying something for a witch with the ability to draw the future. "Go on, tell me more about Egypt," she prompted, leaning closer with a grin. "What was the Wizarding culture like? Were there lots of creepy, ancient artefacts for sale?"
"None we could afford," George snorted.
"We did meet an old Warlock who offered to give us some Crushed Griffin Claw in exchange for the socks we were wearing," Fred added with a bright grin that shone with light.
"Yeah, but Dad caught us before we could finish untying our shoes," George finished, giving a grimace of regret.
"What a shame," Winona laughed, and the twins seemed to perk up. Fred was opening his mouth, no doubt to tell her more interesting anecdotes from their trip, but was interrupted by the sound of shoes on the wooden panelling behind them. Winona turned just in time to hear Mrs Weasley's crow of delight at the sight of her.
"Winona, sweetheart!" the Weasley matriarch cried with warm affection, bending down to pull her into a tight embrace that left Winona's face pressed uncomfortably to the woman's bosom.
"Hi, Mrs Weasley," she said with a gasp, once she was finally released and could once more breathe freely. "Did you enjoy your holiday?"
"Absolutely, dear. It was wonderful," Mrs Weasley told her happily.
"And how's Bill?"
"Oh, he's well," Mrs Weasley crooned with something of a sigh. "It's hard having him so far away, and he's too busy to visit, so we don't see him nearly often enough..."
"Winnie doesn't care, Mum!" the twins groaned from behind her, and both women whirled around to glare at them.
"I do so," Winona argued, and they rightfully looked at least a little bit scolded.
"I don't know why you put up with those two, dear," Mrs Weasley said lightly, casting her sons another frown before patting Winona gently on the shoulder and turning to leave when she spotted Mr Weasley heading for the bar.
"Is Ron here?" Winona asked the twins once she was gone.
"Yeah," Fred nodded, "Hermione too. They went out into the Alley to find Harry."
"Oh good," she sighed, glad Harry's friends had finally arrived. "So, keep going," she prompted them after a moment of silence. "Tell me more about Egypt; I want to know everything!"
The twins launched into their favourite stories, which soon enough had Winona in near side-splitting laughter, clutching onto Fred as she giggled so hard she could barely breathe.
"Come on," Mrs Weasley reappeared just when Winona was about to pass out from her friend's tales of hilarity. "We've got things to buy," she said to her sons, who groaned and climbed to their feet.
"Do you mind if I tag along, Mrs Weasley?" Winona asked, scrambling upright and already beginning to shove her splayed out art supplies into her satchel.
"You don't have to, dear-"
"No, no," she quickly said, throwing the strap over her body and turning around to grin, cheeks still flushed from the amusement of it all. "I want to."
"Well, if you're sure…"
"It's us, Mum," George proclaimed, shuffling closer and throwing an arm over Winona's shoulders in an affectionate move. "She can't get enough of us."
"Yeah," Fred leapt in, winding an arm around her back, palm of his hand pressed innocently to her ribs. "She's been without us for so long, you see; you can't separate us now!"
"Very well, then," Mrs Weasley said with an exasperated sort of sigh, but there was a twitch to her lips that was impossible to mask.
Ginny was waiting by her dad's side, and Percy was there too, scanning the newspaper with a sort of intense expression, as though he were reading something he would later be tested on.
"Hey, Ginger," Winona greeted the youngest Weasley, stepping out of the twins' hold and rushing up to the girl, holding out her fist for a bump. Shyly, Ginny did as much, making the older girl grin.
"Hello, Winona," Percy said formally from her right, before the Ginny had a chance to respond. Bewildered, Winona turned to see him holding out a hand like they were strangers, meeting for the first time.
Cautiously, she reached out and shook his hand, his grip tight and firm, as though trying to make a good impression. "Uh, hey," she said slowly, grappling to understand what was happening.
"Looking forward to the start of term?" he asked cordially, dropping her hand and peering down at her through his horn-rimmed glasses.
"Yes?" it came out more like a question.
"As am I," Percy agreed, puffing out his chest, quite obviously trying to bring attention to the gleaming silver Head Boy badge sitting on his chest.
"Yes, Percy," Fred rolled his eyes, pushing his older brother out of the way impatiently. "You're the most important person at Hogwarts this year, you're Dumbledore's new right-hand man, yadda, yadda, yadda."
"You should show a little more respect," Percy said primly, nose pointed up in the air.
"Sure, Percy," George sniggered. "Just as soon as you earn it."
Percy went red, but was saved from having to come up with a witty retort as Mrs Weasley barrelled forwards, waving the group out through the back, where Diagon Alley awaited.
They arrived back at the Leaky Cauldron a good few hours later, arms laden with equipment for the coming year. They found Harry, Hermione and Ron already sat at a large table with Mr Weasley, who looked vaguely as though he had swallowed a lemon.
"Hey Ron, Hermione," Winona greeted the younger kids as she collapsed into a seat beside the wild-haired bookworm, who was cradling something orange and furry in her hands. "Whatcha got there?" she asked as she heard Fred and George making more snide remarks about Percy in the background.
"This is Crookshanks," Hermione proclaimed proudly, thrusting the thing forwards into Winona's arms, forcing her to gather it in a tight grip, the thing's claws digging into the soft flesh of her arm. "The owner of the store said he's been there for years, and nobody had ever looked at him twice. I can't imagine why; look at him," she crooned, scratching the cat under its chin.
Winona wasn't a huge cat person – she liked them well enough, but she thought they were overrated. Still, she had to admit the thing had charm, staring up with its squashed little face, blinking at her with weirdly intelligent eyes. They put her off a little, to be honest, and she turned to the third year, who was watching her expectantly.
"He's...nice," she finally said, and Hermione beamed as though Winona had just given her the greatest compliment known to wizard kind. She took the opportunity to deposit the creature back into her waiting arms.
"Everyone go get washed up for dinner!" Mrs Weasley suddenly exclaimed, just as Tom, the innkeeper, meandered over, wand in hand.
Winona offered to let Hermione and Ginny stay in her room, but Ginny said she had to stay close to her parents – presumably because of the whole 'Sirius Black' thing, which seemed to have everyone on edge. Hermione took her up on her offer, and the pair of them retreated to her room, where they took turns using the shower, dressing in casual jeans and cardigans for dinner.
When they reappeared downstairs, the last to arrive since they'd each taken the time to wash their hair – which, for Hermione, was something of an ordeal – three tables had been pushed together, and the Weasleys and Harry were crowded around them, chatting jovially with one another, each holding bottles of butterbeer or pumpkin juice.
Hermione moved over to the empty seat beside Ron while Winona moved over to the one left open between George and Fred, sitting down and taking the offered butterbeer from Fred.
From higher up the table, Percy was saying something to his mum in an overly-important voice, like he was the mayor and not just the Head Boy of his school. Mrs Weasley was listening with rapt attention, and Winona heard Fred snort derisively from her right.
She turned to look at him, noting the sarcastic sneer sitting on his face. "You feel okay about not being made a prefect?" she asked him in an undertone just as Tom served their first course for the night. Fred busied himself with buttering his bread, shrugging his shoulders.
"I don't care that much," he said, casting another look over at his older brother. "But it'd be nice of Mum to not act so ashamed of us; or worse, forget we even exist."
It was rare to see either of the twins so sombre. Winona reached out, wrapping her fingers around his forearm, his skin warm under her touch. He cast her a look, his deep blue eyes glittering, and Winona moved her lips into something of a smile, squeezing gently as she cast him her most encouraging look, trying to tell him without words how much he was worth being proud of.
From down the table, Ron called out her name, bringing her into a conversation about his rat, and she was forced to look away from Fred, rubbing her thumb against the skin on his forearm twice before pulling away and focusing on Ron.
"Winona, as a Seer, what would you say-" Ron's words were cut off by a sharp slap to the head by Hermione. "Ow!" he exclaimed, flinching out of the way. "What was that for?" he demanded.
"You can't just go around shouting that Winona's a Seer," Hermione hissed, shooting the older girl an apologetic look, apologising on Ron's behalf.
Ron grimaced, ears turning red as he grumbled something under his breath that made Winona smirk and Hermione slap him again. She turned to Fred to share her amusement, surprised to find he was already looking at her.
"What?" she asked self-consciously, lifting a hand to wipe at her mouth.
"Nothing," he assured her with heavy eyes, then suddenly shook his head like he was clearing it and swiped up his butterbeer. "Tell me about how your art's going," he continued on eagerly. "You said in one of your letters that you've been experimenting with black paper and white crayons?"
Winona relaxed into her chair, grinning back and launching into a tale of her experiments with shadow.
"How're we getting to King's Cross tomorrow?" she asked the twins later on, once all the courses of the meal had been devoured and they were down to their last few spoonfuls of chocolate pudding.
"Dunno," George said around a mouthful of the scrumptious pudding. She glanced over at Fred, who swallowed his mouthful, then called the question out to his dad, who had just finished a murmured conversation with Hermione about toaster ovens.
"The Ministry's providing a couple of cars," he told them, and the conversation around the table slowed. This didn't make sense to Winona, why on earth would the Ministry send cars for them?
"Why?" asked Percy curiously, voicing what everyone was thinking.
"It's because of you, Perce," George spoke up, his voice perfectly serious. Winona nearly choked on her pudding, and Fred clapped her firmly on the back. "And there'll be little flags on the hoods, with HB on them —"
"— for Humongous Bighead," finished Fred jovially.
Everyone around them snorted in amusement, but Percy looked like he tasted something sour. Mrs Weasley looked almost lethal.
"Why are the Ministry providing cars, Father?" Percy asked again in a dignified voice, his shoulders held back like there was a ruler glued to his spine.
"Well, as we haven't got one anymore," said Mr. Weasley simply, "and as I work there, they're doing me a favour —"
Mr Weasley sounded casual enough, but Winona was best friends with the twins – she could spot a lie when it was right in front of her. He was keeping something from them, and despite how achingly curious this made her, she knew she had to put her trust in him – whatever reasons they had, they were good ones; she could feel it in her bones.
"Good thing, too," Mrs. Weasley piped up briskly, setting down her empty pudding cup and clapping her hands together. "Do you realise how much luggage you've all got between you? A nice sight you'd be on the Muggle Underground... You are all packed, aren't you?" she asked, suddenly pinning each of them with a suspicious, narrow-eyed stare.
Everyone around the table gave vague murmurs of confirmation, but then Percy said, "Ron hasn't put all his new things in his trunk yet. He's dumped them on my bed." Ron shot his older brother a glare of betrayal that was ignored.
"You'd better go and pack properly, Ron, because we won't have much time in the morning," Mrs Weasley said, and Ron's ears turned red as he grumbled about it before sighing and climbing to his feet.
"I'm gonna head upstairs too," Winona said, pushing her chair back and standing up.
"Tired?" Hermione asked from opposite her.
"Inspired," she corrected, and for a moment Hermione looked confused, but from either side of her the twins made the motions of drawing with their hands, and Hermione nodded in understanding.
She grinned at the twins, sent Harry a smile and then told Hermione to head up whenever she was ready, before climbing the stairs and disappearing inside her room.
It had become quite homey to her after the last week and a half, her clothes dumped half out of her trunk and the desk in the corner already smudged black with charcoal and ink. It would be sad to leave, she found herself thinking, but she reminded herself that she was going somewhere a million times better; she was going to Hogwarts.
Hermione came back up to the room soon enough, and Winona moved across the bed to make room as she went into the bathroom, reappearing in a matching set of pristine flannelette pyjamas. "Cute," Winona said with a smirk, and Hermione's cheeks went a little pink.
Winona had never owned a set of matching pyjamas before. She made do with flannel pants and various old, threadbare teeshirts she slept in. she wondered what it might be like, to live a life where you got changed into a matching pyjama set every night before bed.
Hermione was just heading back into the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair when there was a quiet knock at the door. "I'll get it," Winona told her, padding across the cold floorboards in bare feet and cracking open the door, peeking out with an arched eyebrow. "Oh," she said when she saw who it was. "Hey, Boy-Wonder."
Harry didn't look so great, pale and more than slightly worried. He wet his lips then looked up and down the hallway, as if worried about eavesdroppers. "Can we talk?" he asked in barely more than a whisper.
Winona opened the door wider and Harry cast the corridor a final glance before slipping into her room. "What's up?" she asked him as she shut the door tightly after him.
"Hermione?" he asked instead, voice little more than a whisper.
Bemused, Winona jerked her thumb at the only other door in the room. "Bathroom." Harry said nothing, seeming only more pale in the low lighting of their room. Winona crossed her arms over her holey old the Clash teeshirt, the fabric mottled with flecks of paint. "What's wrong?" she asked, growing wary.
Harry took a moment to gather his thoughts. "I just overheard Mr and Mrs Weasley arguing," he finally began. Confused, Winona waited impatiently for him to continue. "They were talking about me and you," he paused, seeming to go even paler, "and Sirius Black."
Winona's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Sirius Black?" she asked, keeping her voice low. "What's he got to do with us?"
"I dunno, exactly. Mr Weasley was saying we had a right to know about something, but Mrs Weasley was saying we're too young – that it would only scare us."
Winona's insides were slowly turning to ice. "Know what?" she asked, dreading the answer.
"I don't know, exactly," he whispered. "But, well, they seem to think Black's after me."
Winona blinked. "You?" she asked. "Why would he be after you?"
Harry suddenly looked so lost, drooped over like he carried the weight of the world on his bony shoulders. "I don't know," he said, so very tired. "But they made it sound like he had some kind of connection to us – both of us."
"What possible connection could Sirius Black have to either of us?" she asked. "We're just kids."
Harry just looked tired, and Winona didn't want to add to his burden. Instead she reached out, gripping tight to his shoulder and squeezing.
"You'll be safe at Hogwarts," she told him confidently. "Dumbledore would never let anything happen to you."
"Yeah," Harry said, looking up to meet her eyes. "I'm not even scared, I'm just confused," he admitted. "Why do these things always happen to me?"
Winona smiled, the expression tinged with sadness and sympathy. "I dunno," she said softly. "Thanks for coming to tell me, though."
"You have a right to know," he shrugged. A sudden frustration came over his expression, one that Winona shared. "Why would Mr and Mrs Weasley be keeping something like this from us?"
Winona sighed. "I'm sure they're just doing what they think is best," she said gently.
"You're not angry?"
"I'm frustrated," she admitted. "But I trust the Weasleys with my life. I'm sure they wouldn't do anything that would hurt us in the long run."
Harry didn't look convinced, and she squeezed his shoulder again. "I hope you're right," he whispered, downcast.
He looked so despondent, Winona couldn't help but bring him in for a quick hug. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she squeezed tight, trying to remind him he wasn't alone. Not now, not ever. Harry hugged her back, and she knew he must have grown up as starved for affection as she had. Yet another thing that bound them together.
The bathroom door clicked open and Hermione reappeared, stopping short at the sight that greeted her. "Oh," she said, surprised. Harry pulled away and ran a hand through his untameable hair. "Harry?" she asked. "Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, Hermione," he told her, attempting a smile. "I'd better head to bed. Thanks, Winnie," he added, turning to leave.
"Thanks, Boy-Wonder," she replied, and he sent them a waning smile as he left the room. Hermione stared after him in concern, and Winona shut the door after him, turning to look at her softly. "He just needs rest, I'm sure he'll tell you all about it on the train tomorrow."
Hermione's expression was pinched, like she were working hard to solve a puzzle in her head. "You two are really close," she finally said.
"He's a great kid," Winona shrugged. "And the only other person I know who grew up without a proper family. Hardship bonds people, I s'pose."
Hermione didn't seem convinced, and Winona knew she was thinking there had to be something more to it. She wished she could tell her there wasn't, but Winona wasn't sure herself. There was still that nameless thing that hovered between her and Harry, a connection neither could explain. Winona hoped one day she might figure it out.
"You should get to bed," she said instead, climbing onto the far right side of the bed, leaving Hermione plenty of room to sleep. "Big day tomorrow."
"What about you?" Hermione asked as she climbed beneath the covers.
"I'm gonna stay up awhile longer. I still need to wind down a little."
Hermione looked disapproving, but she knew better than to argue the point. "All right," she said, laying her head on the pillow that smelt of mothballs and shutting her eyes. "Don't stay up too late."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Hermione must have been tired, because it was barely five minutes later she was dead to the world, curled on her side, slumbering deeply. Winona stayed up, a stick of charcoal held in dirty fingers, sketching as she tried to process what Harry had told her.
Sirius Black was somehow connected to both of them, although how that might have been remained a mystery. A mystery the Weasleys knew the answer to.
She hadn't been lying to Harry – she really did trust the Weasleys with her life. In many ways, they were the only family she'd ever really known. But she did feel, deep down, a sense of betrayal when she thought of the Weasleys keeping something from her – especially something as big as a peculiar connection to a murderous madman on the loose in the wizarding world.
That seemed like the sort of thing she was entitled to know about.
When she slipped into the vision, it was almost like falling asleep. She hadn't even realised it had happened. One moment she was sketching the outline of Hermione as she dozed, and the next everything was dark and she could hear someone crying.
The scent of salt was sharp in the air, whether from tears or blood, Winona wasn't sure. There was a sense of urgency, her heart raced. She was scared and also excited, desperate even. Somebody was speaking, a low, rasping voice, like its owner hadn't used it in years. She felt a pressure on her hands, someone holding them, and heard the distant chiming of a far away clock.
She came out of the vision slowly, blinking to awareness. Hermione was still slumbering beside her, tiny little snores escaping her parted lips. The light on the bedside table flickered, the candle burnt down to its very end. But the light was just enough to see the sketch she'd blindly drawn.
In the rough lines of a broken stick of charcoal was the image of Sirius Black, but it took her a moment to realise it was even him. He wasn't cackling madly, or screaming with wicked delight. He was smiling, the expression soft and full of love. His hand was outstretched and there was hope in his eyes, like he were reaching towards something he so desperately wanted.
And Winona felt bad for him. She wanted to know who he was. How could a man whom had murdered thirteen people in cold blood look like that? How could he look so desperately hopeful? How could he look so innocent?
Winona was awoken the next morning by Hermione gently shaking her shoulders, and she blinked in surprise, not even having realised she'd fallen asleep at all.
"You passed out over your drawings again," Hermione told her with a quirk of her lips, and Winona looked down at her lap to see it still covered with sticks of charcoal and the sketchbook with the image of a smiling Sirius Black pointing up Winona covered it before Hermione could see. "Come on, you'd better finish getting packed before Mrs Weasley finds out you haven't," she added slyly. Winona managed a throaty chuckle before arching her back in a stretch and climbing, begrudgingly, out of bed.
She changed into her newest pair of black jeans – the only pair without rips – and pulled on a yellow cardigan that reminded her of Hufflepuff's colours.
Her things didn't take long to put away, probably because she didn't care to fold anything, merely tossing everything she could see into her trunk, then squashing it down until she had enough room to shut the lid. Hermione gave her a look of horrified disdain from where she was knelt in front of her own trunk, carefully checking things off a list she'd prepared earlier.
Hoping to distract her, Winona asked which elective she was most looking forward to beginning this year.
"Ancient Runes, most definitely," Hermione told her eagerly, sitting on her closed trunk and grinning widely, like the very thought of the class was enough to get her heart racing.
Weird kid.
Hermione was just beginning to explain the subject in more detail when the door burst open with force, banging against the wall loudly. Hermione squeaked and flinched back as though preparing for an attack, but Winona could do no more than roll her eyes, knowing who it was before so much as turning to look.
"Are you ladies ready?" the twins asked, their own trunks sitting idle in the doorway.
"What if we'd been getting changed?!" Hermione demanded shrilly, aghast at how they'd just barged in unannounced.
"What's your point?" George asked with a perfectly straight face. Winona laughed at Hermione's scandalised expression as she finally succeeded in closing her trunk enough to lock it.
"No use, Bookworm," she told her with a grin, threading the strap of her messenger bag over her shoulders. "It's like talking to a brick wall that only talks back in insults."
"I'm not sure you used the expression correctly," Hermione said flatly, but there was a curve to her lips that gave away her amusement. "But I'm beginning to see that," she added, casting the twins a cursory glance.
"Time's a-wastin', Andrews," Fred said brashly, tapping at his bare wrist impatiently.
"Let me guess, breakfast's being served," Winona rolled her eyes, and the twins were already heading out into the corridor.
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, gathering up her things and hurrying after them.
Winona rolled her eyes but followed, noting that the twins had paused to wait for her while Hermione had rushed for the stairs. Winona shut her door behind her, and had just opened her mouth to speak when the door down the hall burst open with a bang, and Percy stormed towards them, an agitated scowl resting on his freckled face.
"All right, Perce?" Fred asked, and the Head Boy only scowled deeper.
"What happened?" George questioned eagerly as he passed.
Percy said nothing other than a growled, "bloody Ronald..." before disappearing down the stairs.
The twins exchanged grins, bursting into Harry's room where Ron was standing. "What'd you do to Perce?" George asked, beaming at his brother proudly.
"He looked about ready to lay an egg!" Fred added cheekily.
"He thinks I dripped tea on his picture of his girlfriend," Ron sneered in disgust.
"Brilliant!"
"Good job, little brother!"
"I didn't do it!" Ron argued defiantly, but it fell on deaf ears.
"Come on, then, you two," George said, locking an arm around Ron's neck and dragging him to the doorway. "Breakfast's getting cold!"
Fred followed after them, and Winona made to do the same, only to pause when she realised Harry wasn't moving. "Okay there, Boy-Wonder?" she asked his gently, leaning in the doorway and cocking her head curiously.
"Yeah," Harry said, but the frown on his face told a different story. She wondered if he'd slept any better than she had. If his dream, too, had been filled with the enigma of Sirius Black. Harry sighed the sigh of a boy much younger than thirteen and murmured, "it's just that-"
"Come on, Win," Fred yelled impatiently from down the hallway, interrupting whatever Harry had been about to say. "If you don't hurry, Ron will eat all the bacon!"
Winona didn't move, more concerned about Harry, but the kid only sighed again and shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he said. She cocked her head, observing him closely.
"If you're sure," she finally murmured, but Harry did no more than lift his shoulders in a shrug. She nodded for him to lead the way, shutting the door after them and resolving to speak to him when they next got a few minutes alone.
Breakfast was a hurried affair, and although Winona wanted to sit with the twins, Ginny waved excitedly when she appeared, gesturing to an open seat beside her, and she couldn't say no to the hope on her little face. Winona reluctantly left the boys to go sit between Ginny and Hermione, where Mrs Weasley was beginning to tell them of her exploits in love potions back in her Hogwarts days.
The Ministry cars arrived soon enough, and Winona, Ginny, Mrs Weasley and the twins, piled into the one at the back. It was large and comfortable, rather reminding Winona of a limousine, and she stretched out her legs and watched London pass them by.
"Are we allowed to put the windows down?" she called up to the driver when there was a lull in conversation.
"No," the wizard deadpanned, and she grimaced at the back of his head before turning her attention back to what George and Ginny were saying about Lee and his commentating of the school's Quidditch matches.
King's Cross was bustling with Muggles as they moved inside, and Mrs Weasley instructed Fred to go with Hermione through the barrier, while George went with Winona. They ran at the wall, reappearing on platform nine and three-quarters, which was bustling with witches and wizards, everyone dressed much more colourfully, making Winona happy.
They got a near-empty carriage at the back and loaded their things on before darting back out onto the platform to bid farewell to Mr and Mrs Weasley.
The Weasley Matriarch pulled all her children into hugs and kisses, wishing them a wonderful year, then quickly dived onto Winona, who smiled thinly as she squeezed the older witch back.
"You be good, and you keep those boys of mine in line," Mrs Weasley said to her, the same parting words exchanged every year since she was eleven.
"Of course," Winona assured her, keeping to the script. "Always do!"
"Oh, you're a good girl," Mrs Weasley cooed, patting down her blonde hair affectionately.
The thoughtless action made Winona ache deep inside, and her mouth was moving before she'd made the decision to speak. "You'd tell me if you knew something I didn't, wouldn't you, Mrs Weasley?" she asked, childish hope ringing in her voice.
Mrs Weasley pulled back, surprise etched across her face. "Sorry, dear?"
"If you knew something about me that I didn't, you'd tell me what it was, wouldn't you?" she asked again. "You wouldn't keep something important from me?"
Mrs Weasley's expression shuttered, the emotions in her eyes too numerous to name. Finally she settled on a tense smile. "Why ever would you ask such a thing, dear?" she asked, just a little too innocent to be believable. It didn't escape Winona's notice that it wasn't an answer to the question.
The train whistled behind her, and Mrs Weasley smiled again, wholly unconvincing as she gave her a tiny push in the direction of the train.
"You'd best be off, Winnie," she said quietly. Winona thought this might have been the first time Mrs Weasley had called her by her nickname, and it surprised her, only making her more suspicious. "Off you pop," Mrs Weasley urged her onwards.
Swallowing thickly, hurt ricocheting through her, Winona nodded once, not bothering to attempt a smile as she watched Mrs Weasley move onto Harry, whom she clutched onto like she were worried she might never see him again.
"I think she likes Harry more than us," Fred said to her quietly. On anybody else, the words would have sounded snide, but instead they were said with amusement. Winona grinned up at him in exasperation.
"I've made you all sandwiches...here you are, Ron," Mrs Weasley was saying.
"Is it-?" Ron tried to asked as he took the sandwich she offered.
"No, they're not corned beef," she tutted impatiently. "Fred? Where's Fred?" she asked, voice kicked up an extra notch with the stress of it all. "Ah yes, here you are, dear…"
"Harry, Winona," said Mr Weasley quietly, catching the duo's attention, "come over here a moment?"
Winona frowned, glancing at Harry who looked back at her, just as bewildered. As one they followed Mr Weasley a few metres away from the rest of them. Winona's heart was racing in her chest as they ducked behind a tall pillar on the platform in an attempt as privacy.
"There's something I've got to tell you before you leave —" Mr Weasley began in a hushed voice, eyes serious and dark and full of worry.
"It's all right, Mr. Weasley," said Harry. "I already know."
Mr Weasley stood from his crouch, eyebrows shooting up to his receding hairline. "You know? How could you know?"
"I, er, I heard you and Mrs Weasley talking last night. I couldn't help hearing," Harry told him, quick and apologetic. "I wasn't sure what it meant, and so I went to speak with Winona, in case she might have…" he said. That last part wasn't strictly true, but it sounded better than him just saying he'd run straight to tell her they'd been talking about them.
Mr Weasley's eyes were intense as he looked at Winona. "And do you, Winona?" he asked seriously. "Do you know?"
Winona frustration kicked up a notch. "I have no idea, Mr Weasley," she said. "And I'd really like to know what the big secret is, other than Black being after Harry for some reason."
"Ah – that's not the way I'd have chosen for you to find out," said Mr. Weasley, casting an anxious glance back at his wife, who was squeezing Ginny within an inch of her life, eyes sparkling with tears as they said goodbye.
"No — honestly, it's okay," Harry assured him. "This way, you haven't broken your word to Fudge and I know what's going on."
"Harry, you must be very scared —"
"I'm not," said Harry. "Really," he added, because Mr. Weasley looked wholly unconvinced. "I'm not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can't be worse than Voldemort, can he?"
Mr Weasley flinched but otherwise didn't react. "Harry, I knew you were, well, made of stronger stuff than Fudge seems to think, and I'm obviously pleased that you're not scared, but —"
"Arthur!" called Mrs Weasley impatiently. "Arthur, what are you doing? It's about to go!"
"They're coming, Molly!" shouted Mr Weasley but he turned back to them and kept talking in a lower and more hurried voice. "Listen, I want you to give me your word —"
"— that I'll be a good boy and stay in the castle?" said Harry gloomily.
"Not entirely," Mr Weasley murmured, subdued. "Harry, Winona – both of you – you must swear to me you won't go looking for Black."
Winona blanched, and Harry was similarly surprised. "What?"
"Promise me," said Mr Weasley, talking more quickly still, "that whatever happens —"
"Why would I go looking for someone I know wants to kill me?"
"Swear to me that whatever you might hear — either of you," Mr Weasley implored. "You will not seek him out."
"Mr Weasley, please," said Winona tersely. "What in Merlin's name does this have to do with me?"
Mr Weasley looked stricken. "It was decided a long time ago that you would never know – for your own good, Winona, you must understand–"
"Arthur, quickly!" cried Mrs. Weasley.
Mr Weasley shut his eyes in defeat just as a loud whistle shot across the platform. "Go," he urged them. "But remember what I said!"
And even though Winona wanted to grip him by the front of his robes and shake him until answers fell out like sickles, the train was beginning to move, pulling away from the platform, and they were out of time.
With a growl of frustration, Winona darted back towards to the train. The twins were standing at one of the doors, and Fred thrust out a hand. She gripped it tight and he tugged her into the train with laughable ease, like she weighed no more than a bag of feathers.
"Talk about cutting it close," said George.
"What were you and Harry gabbing on about with our dad?" Fred wondered. Winona didn't turn to wave at the Weasleys on the platform, she just squeezed Fred's hand and let go, leading them further down the train.
"Doesn't matter," she lied. Harry, Ron and Hermione all stood by the doors too, Harry frowning hard. "Will you be all right?" Winona asked, the question said to them all, but meant really for Harry.
"They'll be fine, mama-bear," Fred said, exasperated, and reached out to tugged her along. She locked eyes with Harry, and in that instant they promised to find one another once they got to school to talk about what had happened. With a final wave, Fred pulled her around the corner and into the next carriage.
"There you are!" Lee exclaimed when they tumbled into their usual compartment. "Thought you'd missed the train and flown your dad's car to school," he added cheekily, and the twins snickered.
"We wish," they told him, taking seats beside him and leaving her in the doorway.
"Winona!" Alicia looked thrilled by her arrival, and she reached forwards to wrap her friend in a hug before she was even all the way through the door.
"Hey, Leesh," she responded, squeezing her back tightly.
The brunette pulled back, reaching out to grab a lock of her blonde hair, pulling at it with a grin. "Did you do something to your hair?" she asked lightly. Winona ran a hand through her wavy locks.
"Nope," she responded lamely. "I mean, I brushed it."
"You look nice," Alicia told her, and she smiled back sweetly. "How've you been since the zoo?" she continued as they sat together in the spot by the window. "Ange told me she saw you in Diagon Alley the other day."
"Yeah, I spent the last few weeks at the Leaky Cauldron," she revealed, omitting the part about being there for Harry. "For the first time ever, I've actually finished my summer homework in time," she laughed, and Alicia chuckled too.
George whipped out a worn pack of Exploding Snap, quickly enticing Lee into a game just as the trolley came past, and Alicia asked if she wanted anything ("Just a chocolate cauldron for me, thanks") before slipping out the door to join the growing queue.
"So," Fred spoke suddenly, surprising Winona as she'd thought he'd been focused on the game happening between his dorm mates. "What were you really talking with my dad about?"
Winona turned to look, the smile melting from her face. "Not here," she said, hushed so Alicia and Lee wouldn't hear. "When we're alone," she promised.
He eyed her, a thousand thoughts flickering behind his crystal eyes until finally he nodded his head once. "Okay," he said, his usual bright self. "Let's see this year's sketches, then."
She hadn't had a chance to show them during their night at the Leaky Cauldron, it'd been far too hectic to worry about showing him her sketches. There had been more important things to do; like eat and catch up with one another.
"I've got a whole heap to show you," she told him, picking up her bag and fetching her sketchbook from its depths. It was leather bound and fraying at the spine from constant use, but she always insisted it was just well-loved.
She cracked it open to the earliest of her summer visions, placing it half in her lap and half in his, making sure they were the only two who could see them.
The first picture was an inky black figure that floated in a sea of nothing, draped only in torn robes. In fact, the next three were exactly the same, the difference only in the backgrounds, the creepy figure staying exactly the same.
"I have no idea what it's supposed to be," she admitted with a frown, delicate brows pulled together in worry. "Creepy as fuck, though, don't you think?" she added with a look of distaste, reaching forwards to flick through the batch of rough sketches, done by a blind but steady hand.
"It looks kind of like something dad told us about..." Fred trailed off, only to suddenly shake his head as though to clear it. "You should probably talk to Dumbledore though, because I wouldn't have a proper clue."
Winona had expected this. Besides, she'd never had a continuous pattern of premonitions before, it made her wonder what was so important about these eerie cloaked figures that made her 'inner eye' so focused on them.
Deciding to wait until she spoke to the Headmaster, she flicked to the next one. It was of a rat, the thing sitting on its back, struggling to get to its feet. "Looks like Scabbers," Fred said, and she had to agree. She didn't know of any other rats that would be worth a vision. Shrugging, she turned to the next one, frowning down at it wearily.
It was the one of Sirius Black she'd done the night before. Fred hummed, hardly as affected by the sight of it as she had been. Sensing his lack of worry, she moved onto the next one, knowing there'd be time to talk about Black later.
It was a drawing of a large, shaggy looking dog. It peered out from behind a log at the edge of a village. It was coloured in with dark pastels that had stained her fingers for weeks, which she wouldn't have minded had she been able to remember doing so. Winona peered down at the forgotten artwork, vaguely remembering dark flashes of teeth and snarls, but otherwise having no other hints as to what it meant.
"I don't know why a dog would be significant enough to warrant a vision," she complained quietly, running a finger over the paper. The dog felt familiar too, like she knew it, like she could almost remember how it smelled. "But I suppose it's a step up from a rat," she said simply, shaking her head to clear it.
"This was the last drawing you did?" Fred sounded oddly choked. She glanced up, warily taking in his pale face and the wide eyes that were focused intently on her sketch.
"Yeah, it was a few weeks ago now. I actually haven't had a vision since," she added. They'd taken to calling her premonitions 'visions'. She felt it sounded less daunting than 'episodes' or 'fits'. It was slightly misleading, as she wouldn't really say she saw much of anything – just horrible, frightening flashes.
Fred only seemed to get whiter.
"Fred?" she asked cautiously.
"Lee, go tell Alicia to buy us some extra chocolate frogs," he said abruptly, glancing impatiently over at his dreadlocked friend. He still sounded hoarse, but seemed to be forcing a happier tone for the sake of the others.
"What?" Lee was confused by the sudden demand.
"Go on, mate," George said quickly, nudging him away with an easy smirk. "We'll pick this up when you get back," he added, gesturing to their half-finished game.
Lee shot the lot of them a suspicious look but knew it was better to listen to them rather than find himself at the business end of a nasty prank. He slipped out the door, and they waited until it had clicked shut behind him before they began talking.
"What is it?" George asked, staring over at his twin warily, gaze flickering between the pair of them.
Fred snatched the sketchbook from the blonde's hands, shoving it at George's chest. He struggled to grab ahold of it in time, finally holding it in both hands and peering down at the sketch before him, uncharacteristically bleak.
"What is it?" Winona demanded, beginning to feel awfully worried. "One of you talk. Now."
"Winona," Fred began gently, as though afraid of frightening her, an echo of horror etched into his crystal gaze. "That's the Grim."
She was silent, not sure how to react. Did they expect her to know what that was? They were staring at her as though waiting for a breakdown in a mess of tears. "What's the Grim?" she asked carefully, waiting for them to tell her the worst possible answer – though she wasn't even sure what that would be.
"It's-it's an omen of death," George whispered, swallowing nervously and glancing around the compartment suspiciously, as if awaiting their imminent murder.
Winona was speechless. "...It's a dog," she finally said; slowly, as though she were speaking to children or the mentally handicapped.
"She was raised by Muggles, of course she wouldn't know," Fred spoke to his twin quickly, suddenly looking very tired.
"It's in plenty of books, though."
"When have you ever known her to read a book that wasn't about art styles or letter fonts?"
"Fair point."
"Boys," she snapped, interrupting their hushed discussion. Usually she'd let it go on, but she was more impatient than she could ever remember being. They turned to look at her, and she found the sombre look in their nearly identical blue eyes to be disturbing.
She raised her eyebrows, awaiting a more in-depth explanation. George looked like he was trying to figure out how to break terrible news to her, while Fred was staring at her sorrowfully, like she were already dead. She met his eyes, hesitant and concerned, and suddenly he didn't look so much wistful as he did determined.
"Everyone who's ever seen the Grim has … they've died within a day," George finally told her, sounding oddly choked. "Nobody's ever seen it and survived."
She definitely wouldn't call herself a skeptic by any means – she was a future-sketching, wand-wielding witch, for Merlin's sake – but even that was a little far fetched. "That just sounds like folklore to me," she murmured even as a real, genuine, uncomfortable concern began to appear in her gut, spreading through her system like a cancer.
"So are dragons and wizards, to most of the world's population," he argued gently, still staring like he expected her to burst into tears. Slightly irritating – she thought he knew her better than that. "Besides, our uncle Bilius saw it once," he added through a grimace. "He was dead the next day."
The mild concern was quickly blooming into full-blown anxiety, and she pressed a hand over her stomach as though that might in some way help. She was relatively new to the Wizarding world, at least she was compared to the twins. She trusted them, because they knew more about these things than she likely ever would.
"Okay, let's think logically," she spoke clearly, the confidence in her own voice surprising her, as well as the words. As a rule, looking at things logically was never the way to go. She must have been spending too much time around Hermione. "I'm not always the one witnessing the picture, right?" she said softly, thinking over her last year of school. "I drew scenes from inside the Chamber last year, things I never saw. Things only Harry saw."
The twins hesitated. "That's true," they admitted after a moment, glancing at each other as they spoke.
"So maybe I'm not the one who's going to see this...Grim...thing," she suggested, clinging onto hope.
"Don't you find it strange that the Grim was the last thing you drew?" Fred asked, strong brow furrowed as he reached up to run a hand through his wild red hair. "And that you haven't had any visions since then?"
"Are you saying you think I'm going to die?" she asked, shuffling back on the seat so she could properly stare at him, daring him to agree.
"Of course not," he quickly backtracked, fiercely uncomfortable. "But I think it's something you need to consider."
"...So what am I meant to do if I see it?" she demanded, honestly needing to know. Surely there was a way to cheat death; Harry had done it loads of times, hadn't he?
"I think, first things first, you need to take this to Dumbledore," Fred wasn't usually one to suggest bringing the Headmaster in on anything, but when it came to Winona, he always seemed to be willing to bend his own rules.
"Definitely," she nodded, agreeing with him, reaching forwards to pluck her sketchbook from George's limp hands. She glanced down at the sketch that had, only minutes ago looked completely harmless. It now looked like a death sentence. She felt sick again and quickly slammed the book shut, shoving it back into her bag and heaving a shaky sigh.
She was okay. She was alive. And that wasn't going to change any time soon.
"You look like you swallowed a toad flavoured bean," George said brightly, still terribly concerned, however he was never one to linger on the negative. He'd resolved to not let them wallow in their worry. If he wanted anything, it was for everyone to keep smiling.
Knowing this, Winona couldn't help but crack a small grin, shaking her head at her friend's ridiculousness. "Better than that vomit one you choked down last year," she sniped back, and George laughed at the memory. Winona chuckled too, feeling better already, knowing she had the twins at her side to keep her grinning, come hell or high water.
For once though, Fred wasn't smiling. Instead he had a look of fierce determination on his face. He watched her laugh, taking in the way her nose crinkled and her cheeks dimpled, something he'd never really noticed before then. Watching her he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that nothing was going to lay hands on her.
Because they'd have to go through him, first.
The train came to an abrupt stop, lurching so violently that Winona just about fell from her seat. The lights flickered then went out completely, plunging them into darkness. The door opened and Lee's voice asked, "what's going on?"
"Do we look like we know?" George countered sarcastically.
"I can't see you enough to figure it out," he quipped, only to grunt when somebody shoved him further into the compartment.
"We can't possibly be there yet," Alicia was saying, stumbling into the compartment and feeling around for the space beside Winona. She settled into the spot, arms laden with sweets.
Winona glanced out the window, but the torrential rain made it absolutely impossible to see anything outside. The train creaked as though the doors were opening, and she felt an inexplicable shiver, suddenly unbearably cold.
"What's happening?" Alicia sounded frightened now, her voice shaking, all of them very clearly sensing something was wrong. None of them could answer, for none of them knew.
The door burst open, and a familiar head of platinum blonde hair tripped into the room, accompanied by a girlish squeak as the figure sprawled across the floor.
"Malfoy?" Fred asked, more than a little bemused as he stared down at the terrified Slytherin, who looked like he was about to wet himself in his dread.
A figure began to float through the corridor, inky black and eerie and suddenly none of them could have cared less about the third year pureblood shaking like a leaf on the floor of their compartment. Winona gasped, instantly recognising the frightening outline through the glass on the door. Nobody seemed to notice the strangled sound that fell from her lips, all except Fred, who crept forwards, silently wrapping a solid arm around her middle. Her hands reached up, fingers curling around the strong expanse of muscle that was his forearm in a move that was beginning to grow familiar.
She'd seen a lot of her sketches come true over the last four years, more than she'd have liked. But if she'd been able to wish for any not to come true, it would be the one in front of her eyes.
Under the frayed hood of the cloak was only more inky blackness, no face discernible through the thick shadows.
Every single happy thought seemed to be sucked from her brain, and all at once it was as though she were curled up in a corner, hands held up to cover her head protectively as tall, terrible people screamed at her, hatred dripping from their voices. A combination of memories from her past, it was all she could think of. Being small and alone and so sure the world was going to end.
The only thing that kept her in the compartment, that kept her in the present moment, was the familiar weight of Fred's arm around her. She clutched him tighter, swallowing down the bile rising in her throat. Her nails were biting into his skin but he barely noticed, only squeezing her tighter as he fought off his own inner demons.
Then, as quickly as it had appeared, the figure was gone, disappearing from their view. The heavy weight of its dark presence lingered. There was a long, drawn out silence, then the lights flickered back on and train began to move once more, as though nothing had ever happened.
"What the bloody hell was that?" Lee demanded, staring at the empty doorway in horror.
"It was a dementor," the twins answered him, their voices hoarse. "Our dad told us about them," George continued, combing a hand through his wild red hair as though it would clean his mind of bad thoughts, "they're the guards of Azkaban."
The figure sprawled on the floor between them cleared their throat, and Malfoy stood awkwardly to his feet. He self-consciously adjusted his askew robes, cleared his throat once more, shot each of them a not-even-slightly intimidating glare before turning and storming from the compartment, nose held high in the air, trying to display what little dignity he had left.
"That was horrible," Alicia murmured, more to herself than any of the others, brown eyes glistening with tears as she recovered, and Winona got the feeling she wasn't talking about the appearance of Malfoy.
She inched forwards, wanting to comfort her friend though not sure how, only to find the arm around her middle remained, trapping her like a vice. Her back was flush against Fred's front, and she glanced over her shoulder, peering at him through her curtain of thick, moonlight-coloured hair.
His blue eyes were wide, still processing all that had happened, and finally they flickered down to the arm holding her to him. He cleared his throat, blinked dazedly and awkwardly removed the appendage, shoving his hands into his pockets for lack of a better use for them.
"Everyone okay?" Winona was the first to ask.
Her own voice was shaky, but it didn't worry her. She was more concerned about her friends. Alicia nodded her head warily, and the blonde reached out to wrap an arm her shoulders, hoping it would in some way bring her comfort. She squeezed gently, and once she was sure her friend wasn't going to burst into uncontrollable sobs, she glanced over at the boys, all pale and shellshocked.
"Guys?" she prompted cautiously, stormy eyes lingering on the shaken twins, who for once didn't seem to be able to make a joke – which was what worried her the most.
"I heard they suck out your soul, if you get too close," Lee commented, still eyeing the doorway, secretly afraid it would come back.
"Nah," George was quick to shake his head, the movement also serving to clear his cloudy mind of negativity. "Dad says you've gotta be sentenced by the Wizengamot for that to happen."
"Either way," Fred added, seeming to perk up along with his brother. "Hate to meet one of them in a dark corner of Knockturn Alley."
"You're not wrong," Winona murmured, deciding that maybe for once, a bit of extra study on this unknown creature wouldn't kill her. Besides, worse came to worst, she could always ask Hermione for specifics.
She glanced back over at the others, who were once more beginning a game of Exploding Snap, a rather weak attempt to banish the dark fog that had seemed to have settled around the group of close friends. Fred glanced up, meeting her eyes, and she knew what he was trying to convey.
She'd drawn the dementors months before knowing they even existed. And she hadn't just drawn one, she'd drawn several. He wanted her safe, and he wanted her to go straight to Dumbledore with what she had, if only to ensure she was protected.
And, for once, she was going to do exactly as he suggested.